


Tender

by quntari



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Coming Untouched, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Please check the notes on each chapter for detailed content tags and warnings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quntari/pseuds/quntari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six prompts I filled for the Adoribull Kink Meme Fill week! Please check each individual chapter for detailed summaries, content tags and warnings!</p><p>Chapter 1: Then Dear, It's Fine - Alpha!Dorian and Omega!Bull<br/>Chapter 2: Shining In The Rising Sun - Sleeping together in public<br/>Chapter 3: Tender - Bull's ears are very sensitive, Dorian takes advantage<br/>Chapter 4: Lay Hollow In The Emptiness - Bull has a panic attack, Dorian is there for him<br/>Chapter 5: What's Mine, Sweet Design - Bull is a pro at giving blowjobs<br/>Chapter 6: Boom Boom Boom Boom - Dorian is a secret slob</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then Dear, It's Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian learns not only that most qunari born under the Qun are Omegas, but that the Iron Bull is one, too. Luckily for him, Dorian is an Alpha and there for him during their first heat together.
> 
> Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega mechanics, knotting, fluids and praise kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:  
> ABO: Alpha!Dorian/Omega!Bull. That's it, that's the prompt.
> 
> So, this was the first piece of English fanfiction I have written in literal years. English is not my first language, so feel free to leave CC and correct me on spelling, grammar mistakes, and so on.

It doesn't quite hit him until days later, when he walks into the Bull´s room. He is fully prepared, dressed and fed especially for the occasion. He is nervous (and so is Bull, he can smell it, taste it hanging in the air), but excited, and he trusts himself to do this right. They had talked about this, had taken all of the precautions.  
  
It is a surprise the whole reality of what is about to unfold comes crashing down on him in that instant – the same instant the thick cloying scent of Bull hits him as he closes the door behind him and locks it. In retrospect, it shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. Now, with Bull positively writhing on the bed in front of him, it all makes perfect sense.  
  
Dorian has known nothing but Tevinter standards all his life. He had not been exaggerating when he talked about how Tevinter likes to breed its mages. The Pavus family line had been no exception to that rule. Dorian had never thought twice about the fact that he was born as an Alpha, as was normal, desirable, and accepted – especially for an Altus. His father was an Alpha, as was his father before him – his mother a beta, and truly, Dorian had not known any better before coming to the South.  
  
It was easy to make assumptions on humans based on what they looked like. Smelled like, too. It was easy to pick the other Alpha’s apart from each other, smell an Omega nearing their heat from across the courtyard, catch a whiff of a beta reeking of jealousy. Elves and dwarfs had proved to take some getting used to, but were not that difficult. Qunari, however, were a different matter entirely. Thick stinking musk, sharp scents that could send a lesser man caterwauling. For the longest time, the smells of both Adaar and the Iron Bull had been too overwhelming for him to distinguish from each other.  
  
Dorian was a little hesitant to admit it, but in the end, it was Bull that informed him. Even after months of sharing his bed and crossing over into something quite serious, Dorian had been left shocked.  
  
_“What do you mean, exactly?”_  
  
_“An Omega. That is what they call it over here in the South, right?"_  
  
_“Don’t act like you suddenly don’t speak Trade, Bull. I bet you can name it in 6 different languages at least, you infuriating man,” Dorian hissed, giving Bull’s shoulder a half-hearted shove as the man chuckled. Dorian fell silent for a moment, looking down at his hands in confusion. He knew his brow was furrowed, for Bull was suddenly pressing kisses to it. “Could you tell me… How, then? I’ve never been able to, ah, smell you. Or Adaar, for that matter. I don’t quite get how it works for Qunari.”_  
  
_“The boss is not Qunari. He’s Vashoth,” Bull said, ignoring Dorian rolling his eyes with a sigh. “Which is exactly the reason why he’s an Alpha and a mage both. You think he would have lived this long if that were the case under the Qun?” Dorian shook his head. “Right. I know it’s pretty hard for you Vints to grasp the idea of the big, strong Qunari with the rippling muscles to be anything but a rutting Alpha, but it’s quite different in reality.”_

_“How so? The Qun kills off all the Alpha’s so things don’t get messy?”_  
  
_“Sounds cruel when you put it like that, but, yeah, more or less. None of the killing stuff, though. Not until later, anyway, when it might be needed. The Qun breeds omegas, that is how they do things. Betas are allowed for the antaam, maybe, but Alphas?” The Bull shrugged, shaking his head a little. “Not a lot of kids turn out to be Alphas. They make sure they don’t turn out that way in the first place, taking a whole lot of precautions and a whole lot of breeding procedures so they get the people they want. Alphas are dangerous. Want to take charge, are focused on the self and not on being a part of the whole. You only ever see Alphas in the form of the Tamassrans, really. Born to raise, teach and evaluate. They decide when to mate, and with whom. They keep the balance, that way. Other than that, nobody is treated differently because of what they are. You know how it is: all are equal,” finished Bull, brushing his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Dorian's neck._  
  
_Dorian hummed to himself._  
  
_“Our homelands are more alike than you first thought, huh?”_  
  
_A lot was left unsaid in that question, and Dorian looked up from where his cheek was pressed to Bulls chest to give him a kiss on the tip of his pointy ear._  
  
_“Quite.”_  
  
The large bundle on the bed seems to shiver, and Dorian swears he can hear Bull groan something under his breath. Dorian tuts to himself, putting his staff and pack filled with some of his belongings (and books, plenty of them) next to the massive wooden door.  
  
"Peace. I'm here, amatus," Dorian speaks when he can hear Bull shifting again, a noise that sounds like scraping breaking the silence. He dares not even divest himself of his clothing first, but immediately walks over to the bed, where Bull has covered himself with one of his thicker blankets.  
  
_Fuck_. Bull's scent is sending his mind reeling, a sudden need flaring up in his belly so hot he is afraid the bed is going to burn beneath his fingertips. It wouldn't be the first time. He swallows away the pure instinct to rip the sheets off of Bull - the need to take care of Bull greater than the need to take care of his aching hard cock pressing against his leathers.  
  
"How are you, Bull?" he asks. There is no answer, only another groan. Dorian sits down on the bed next to Bull, gently lifting the blanket so that he may see Bull's face. Bull positively whines, nostrils flaring as the smell of a willing Alpha close to him hits him. His cheeks are tinted a bright ruddy purple, sweat covering his skin. Dorian hums, lifting his hands to the Bull's face in an attempt to ground him, thumbs brushing underneath his eye and over thick scar tissue. Finally he gets the Bull's eye to focus on him, the pupil completely blown and his gaze hazy. "Are you with me, amatus? I'm here to take care of you, carissimus, but you have to speak to me," he says, gently, raising one of his hands to rub at the base of a horn soothingly, which makes the Bull gasp in return. The skin there is swollen, and Dorian raises his eyes to confirm that, yes, indeed, Bull has been grinding his rack all over the headboard and wall in an attempt to leave his scent behind.  
  
"Y - yes, _ah_ ," Bull moans. "I'd feel better if you'd knot me up, though," he stutters between heaved breaths, and that earns him a small smile.  
  
"Of course, amatus, give me a moment," Dorian presses a quick kiss to his lips, before moving off the bed to undress.  
  
Normally, Bull's eye would be all too keen on getting a good look at a free show, but considering his current predicament, Dorian wastes no time in removing his clothing. Before Dorian can worry about folding his underthings and put them away some place neat in order to append to Bull's wishes, there's a three-fingered hand grabbing for his wrist and tugging.

Dorian goes, willingly, lets Bull press the inside of his wrist against his nose and breathe in deeply. Dorian shushes him as he climbs onto the bed, removing the blanket with a harsh yank and finally straddling the Bull's hips. There's slick all over his thighs, his cock dark and curved hard against his belly where it sits weeping, both in agony and with a desire Bull can't hope to satisfy on his own. This close, Dorian can hear Bull's heart thud in his chest, his breathing shallow and shaking as he moans at the feeling of Dorian petting the feverish skin of his chest.  
  
"Alright, Bull?" he asks in an attempt to make sure Bull still wants this, that he is feeling well enough to do this - with Dorian, of all people -, that he is ready for what's to come. Bull groans, his voice muffled against where he is pressing slack-jawed kisses on Dorian's skin.  
  
"Please, kadan," he says, his eye meeting Dorian's, the gaze strangely clear and determined considering his current state. "Please."  
  
Dorian can feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise at the plea. A plea from a willing omega underneath him, and he exhales his next breath through his teeth. He nods, feeling feverish as his stomach seems to heat up to match Bull's warmth, and he shifts to kneel on the bed instead, spreading the thick, flushed gray thighs in front of him. A pillow is pushed underneath the Bull's hips to help him along, sliding his fingers down, down to where Bull's hole is twitching, slick and ready to be used.  
  
Dorian wastes no time in gathering some of the slick up on his fingers, spreading the, frankly copious, amount along his cock to leave it wet and shining, before leaning over Bull with a grunt. The scent is making him light-headed, the pheromones sending his own skin into goose bumps and makes his hands shake. He keeps himself grounded with one hand next to the omega's armpit, fingers touching a quivering arm where they are raised to hold the wood of the headboard as he slowly begins feeding the head of his cock to Bull's hole.  
  
Bull is trying his best not to surge up, instead nods frantically in an attempt to urge Dorian on. He is holding his breath, it looks like, and Dorian coaxes his mouth into opening with a few eager kisses.  
  
"Breathe, amatus. I am here. Going to take care of you - you are so good, Bull, you are save with me, I promise," he mutters, pushing. He breaches Bull in the most gentle of ways possible, and with a last groan his balls rest against the Bull, heavy where they sit. He can feel his knot already starting to swell, his prick as eager to get in on the action that is an omega in heat as Bull himself is.  
  
"Fuck, fuck fucking fuck - ah, Dorian, please, _please_ ," Bull says, pressing his face against his bicep in desperation. Dorian can see how even the tips of his ears are tinted a purple hue by now, and he leans over to sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh.  
  
Bull cries out as he moves both of his hands to Bulls thick thighs, groaning with the effort of manoeuvring Bull's arse onto his lap, his fingers pressing as he withdraws and then fucks into the Bull. It earns him a muffled yell, amongst a chorus of 'knot me, knot me, kadan, ah, ah, fuck'. Dorian growls, a sound he didn't know he was capable of making until that moment, and Bull goes still (panting and gasping and moaning, yes, but he stops talking at that point, his limbs shivering in an attempt to stay still in order for the alpha to do his work), his thighs moving underneath Dorians hands in an effort to help him spread him wider, and oh, Dorian can't help unlatching his teeth from the pointy ear to press his nose into the Bull's neck, and breathe in that sweet scent. His cock is leaking, and if it wasn't for the swell of his knot at the base of his cock, Dorian is sure it would be a slippery affair, indeed.  
  
"Yes, Bull," he says, his voice a low grunt between them. "Are you going to come for me? Get yourself ready to take my knot, caro?"  
  
Bull bites his own lip, making a sound that sound suspiciously like 'ffffuck', and he sobs, nodding. His cock twitches against his belly, and a pool of precome joins the already dried seed on his belly, the result of rubbing himself against the sheets for hours, no doubt.

"Oh," Dorian breathes. "You like that? Do you like it when I talk to you like this, amatus, take care of you? How could I not, you looking so sweet and eager and good underneath me? So strong, so big, so full of my cock," he growls. Bull shakes, his stomach almost vibrating with the need in him, whining as he throws his head back among the pillows. "You love it. You love my cock. Going to knot you up, amatus, make you reek of me for everyone to know. Come for me, Bull, my _omega_."  
  
Bull goes completely still as Dorian keeps fucking him, mouth open in a silent yell - a statue, perhaps, glowing almost silver in the light of the candles on the wall, before wracking into shivers, his body heaving as a shout and a long, almost painful sounding groan escapes him. He comes hard, all over his belly, and Dorian leans back a little to look at him.  
  
_Maker_.  
  
He pants as Bull makes his little noises, coming down from something that is not quite as satisfying as it is going to be when Dorian gets his knot ready.  
  
Dorian pulls out entirely, made harder by the fact that his knot is swelling at an almost alarming rate.  
  
In an attempt to soothe, he offers Bull his neck for a few seconds, the spot beneath his ear as he cradles his head between his arms, pressing kisses against the ragged edges of his horns. Bull hums, then, starts fidgeting again when he realises that - no, not enough, never enough, he needs, _needs_ -  
  
Dorian releases him, sits back on his knees again and looks at him. Bull is staring back, breathing hard through his nose, looking perfect, delicious, ravaged. Dorian licks his teeth.  
  
"Onto your belly, Bull," he says, and if Bull was capable of looking giddy in that moment, he quite possibly would have. Making sure to not hurt his knee, he moves to flip over onto his stomach, and Dorian helps him by pressing more of the cushions underneath the Bull's hips, his still straining cock leaking against the soft fabric.  
  
"Kadan," Bull moans, raising his arms again to push his hands against the headboard, blunt nails digging into the wood. "I'm ready, I need - fuck, please," Dorian takes a deep breath as he moves - placing one dark hand on Bull's lighter, sticky skin, gripping a thick muscled shoulder as he gently grounds him, helping him spread his legs a little further. A whispered string of 'I'm here, I got you' escapes him as his hand slides towards the nape of Bull's neck, and he holds, digs his fingers into the flesh hard, at the same time as he buries his cock into the Bull once again.  
  
The Iron Bull howls. One of his arms curls back over his head to touch Dorian's clenched hand with shaking fingers, groaning as the mage begins to set a punishing pace, pounding into him so hard it sends the bed creaking and the Bull gasping.  
  
It trickles down his spine like liquid heat, a fist clenching in his gut the same way as he is sinking his fingers ever firmer into Bull's skin. He fucks into the Bull, grinds his hips against the large globes of his ass, his free hand grasping the soft fat tissue there.  
  
"Ah, fuck, Bull," he swears. The Bull is clenching, pushing back against him by rolling his hips to meet Dorian, and he loses it. His knots swells to its full extend and locks him into position, leaving him only able to grind, moving his hips in shallow movements as he comes, filling Bull up with his seed. Bull throws his head back as he comes again, just from the feeling of the Alphas knot inside of him, offering his neck for Dorian to pepper with little bites and kisses.

Dorian moves gladly, grunting and breathing hard as he leans over to grasp at Bull's throat, then his jaw, two long fingers sliding forward to touch the Bull's lips. He holds him like that, kissing his nape as he recovers from his orgasm, the knot finally firmly in its place. Bull's legs move to curl his feet over Dorian's shins, and as Bull releases one last groan, he can feel the lips under his fingertips moving into a little satisfied smile.  
  
"Lay down," Bull groans, his voice rough. Dorian huffs, dropping down his front onto Bull's back, letting the qunari carry most of his weight as he lays down. "Like that, yeah," he says on a moan, and for a few minutes, the room is silent. Bull may have very well fallen asleep, but Dorian wants to know a few things, first.  
  
"How are you feeling, amatus?" he asks then, releasing the hold he has on the Bull's jaw so the man can lower his head.  
  
"You kidding? I feel _good_ ," he can't see his face, but Dorian knows he is sporting a smirk. To prove his point, he clenches around Dorian's knot, and Dorian groans loudly. "Koslun's arse, who knew _that_ kinda talk could come out of that filthy mouth?"  
  
It is Dorian's turn to flush, now, and he bristles into the Bull's ear, suppressing the want to award that comment with a harsh nip to the lobe. "As if you are not an expert on the things this mouth can do, by now," he mutters. Bull chuckles, jostling Dorian and therefore the knot inside of him, sending him pressing his face back into the pillows with a gasp, and then back into silence.  
  
It stays that way for a while, until Dorian picks up on Bull's muffled speech.  
  
"Hmm. Seriously, though, kadan. Thank you."  
  
Dorian smiles to himself, sliding his arms under the Bull's arms, his hands pressed between the bedding and Bull's chest in an embrace.  
  
"No need to thank me yet. You will be back to begging in but a few minutes, I presume."  
  
"Still."  
  
"You're welcome, amatus."


	2. Shining In The Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaar takes his sweet time gathering herbs, and Bull has had it. It's time for a break and a nap, and Dorian obliges.
> 
> Tags: Fluff, sleeping on the job, mention and appearance of male Inquisitor Adaar, small Cole appearance, talk about sexual acts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Dorian/Bull, Sleeping Together In Public. As in literally sleeping together. Fighting a war is exhausting, and they're comfortable enough with one another that it seems natural for them to just sort of nod off propped against one another.
> 
> That's it. That's all I'm looking for.

Adaar was a decent guy. Sure, a bit unfamiliar with the actual state of the world, politics and religion - awfully fond of nature and dead things, kind, perhaps a bit too young, naive and far, far too hard on his Inner Circle. His inexperience, perhaps, in taking care of a lot of people, but hard nonetheless.   
  
The Iron Bull felt as if he hadn't slept in months. Not true, though. If he thought real hard, he could remember getting some decent shuteye five days ago, when they had spend the night in one of the fortresses of the Inquisitions while making their way through the Dales. Nice food, too. Even nicer had been the rest between jobs, the fights, the endless walking and running and climbing on rocks. _Vashedan_ , he could hardly remember the last time he had had his hands down Dorian's pants without wanting to collapse on the spot and pass out, late at night in their tent.  
  
As if on cue, his named was called.  
  
"Bull."  
  
The corners of his mouth curved into a little lopsided smile, raising his arms behind his head as he crossed his legs at his feet, stretching like a cat in the sun. A big one. With long, sharp teeth, and claws to tear the flesh from -   
  
" _Bull_ ," Again, more urgently this time. "What are you doing?"  
  
Bull opened his eye, squinting against the ray of sun that illuminated the spot underneath the large tree. Dorian was standing a few paces back, staff in his hand as he looked at the Iron Bull with a scowl on his face. They were not far from camp - he could see the flags on top of the few tents from his place, lying down. There were a handful of soldiers around, keeping watch or working on requisitions.  
  
"Resting," Bull said matter-of-factly. When that didn't earn him enough of a scoff, he yawned obnoxiously loud, delighting in the way Dorian scrunched his nose in that not at all adorable way of his. "Look, kadan, the Boss isn't going to be done with gathering Rashvine, Arbor's Blessing and Stormheart and perhaps trampling all over Elven artifacts until dusk at the very least, so I'm going to make the best of it."  
  
The Bull sat up a little bit, settling onto his side with one of his elbows buried in the thick moss beneath him, propping his head up on a massive hand. Dorian stepped forward tentatively, looking over his shoulder. Bull snorted. It was as if he was afraid that Adaar was going to swoop down from the top of the trees, hands and hair full of all kinds of plants and mushrooms, his pack a flurry of noise where he would've strapped tiny skulls and other trinkets to it. It wouldn't be the first time. He was probably checking for the soldiers, but Bull doubted they would give a nug's ass about the loud qunari and the evil magister taking some time off.  
  
"Is that so," Dorian murmured without it sounding like a question, clearly preoccupied in his thoughts. He was inching ever closer to where Bull was lying down on the ground, thick bushes with giant leaves and tall flowers surrounding him. He could only guess he made quite the picture.   
  
"Yeah. You could join me, if you want. Take a nap. We will smell the Red Templars from miles away, in case they show up," Bull grinned. "Solas and Cole are without a doubt taking very good care of the Boss, we can slack a bit."  
  
"We are supposed to scout ahead for the path heading south out of Watcher's Reach. There was a sighting of a rune."  
  
Bull shrugged.  
  
Dorian was unsure, he could see it in the way his scowl deepened but shifted the weight from one leg to the other, pursing his lips a bit. Dorian could use a break - lining his eyes with kohl could only help so much in hiding some serious black circles.  
  
"What can I do to convince you? I can take the pants off, if you want," Bull said in a serious tone, his face blank as if he was completely oblivious to the situation, already moving to wiggle the straps of his belt loose. Dorian snorted (a sound that he would later deny, of course, for he was an elegant man and therefore not capable of producing sounds much like those), shaking his head as he stepped closer to him, stopping the Bull from undressing by waving his hands gingerly.

"No, no, _no_ , you impossible man, please keep yourself covered for but a few hours," he hissed, but he was laughing, whispering as if the trees were listening in on their conversation. Huh. That was a thought. Who knew what kind of fade magic crap was hiding in these roots. Not a good thought to be having right now, not when Dorian was considering him. He was staring, those silver eyes gliding over his skin as he frowned, as if torn up between two choices. If Bull had any say in it, he was obviously the better choice. And he could prove it, too.  
  
Under Dorian's appreciative gaze, Bull flexed his arms, then his chest, relaxing his muscles and then tensing again, showing his teeth in a rather dashing smile. Dorian startled, a flush breaking over his cheeks as he met the Bull's eye. He looked caught for a second, before bursting out into giggles and shoving at him with the toe of his muddy boot. " _Stop_ it!" he hissed, but his voice was laced with humor.  
  
"But it's so _warm_ here, kadan, the sun feels so nice on my skin," he sighed wistfully, even as he ceased flexing. "And the grass is so soft - like those bright yellow pillows in the Orlesian brothel by the docks of Val Royeaux, without the questionable stains."  
  
"A pillow that _you_ happened to rip to shreds," Dorian accused.  
  
"Oh, yeah? And whose fingers were it that launched a thunder bolt right up my ass?"   
  
"You liked it, don't even try to deny it."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
Dorian sighed, his shoulders slumping. Bull could see he had already won by the way his eyes had softened, the rebellious glint in them declaring Bull's victory. Bull patted the soft grass next to him, raising an eyebrow in question.  
  
"It _does_ look very soft."  
  
"Oh, yes. So soft, almost as soft as that cute fuzz on the inside of your - ,"  
  
"You might want to think twice about finishing that sentence, amatus," he interrupted the Bull, even as he was moving to join the Bull in the sunlight.  
  
He was murmuring something under his breath, and Bull pretended not to hear it. He was pulling off his pack, sending it to the ground with a clatter. His staff was put against the tree, right next to the Bull's dawnstone axe, and it wasn't long before Dorian threw down his overcoat and laid down beside the Bull, snuggling up next to him, resting his head on a large gray bicep. He managed to stifle a yawn barely, and folded his arm around the broad chest laid out in front of him, brushing lovingly over the scars underneath his fingertips.   
  
"I'm exhausted," Dorian murmured, his voice sad. Bull flopped unto his back again, tightening his hold around Dorian has he tucked him to his side, brushing the back of his fingers over his cheek.  
  
"I know, kadan. Me too. I bet we will be done with this Corypheus crap soon, and we can all go back to fucking and drinking all night instead of scouting the woods for days on end," He sighed as Dorian pressed a kiss to the skin he could reach.  
  
"Ah, yes. A different type of exhaustion. Way more preferable," Dorian muttered, and he closed his eyes. The sun was hot against his skin, turning the inside of his eyelids a bright red where the light shone through them, but it was fine.   
  
"Yeah. We can sleep a bit, Dorian. Go take your rest."  
  
"You, too, amatus."  
  
Bull hummed, and the sound of Dorian alive and content next to him, the wind blowing through the trees towering above them, the occasional bird singing its song while in flight - send him straight to sleep.  
  
\---  
  
"They are quiet like this."  
  
"Yes, Cole. They are asleep."  
  
"Yes. Softer. Their bodies heavy and worn, shoulders buckling underneath the weight of the world. He wears the fatigue on the outside, tries to show it off as pride, but he hurts. Not him, though. He tries to hide it, wears a mask through the pain and makes a show of his pain. Wants, wants too much - wants to make things better, aches for more, pushes himself too hard to the point of breaking. They are resting, together, so quietly."  
  
"They are sleeping on the job. What do you mean, Cole?"  
  
A thoughtful noise.  
  
"Five more minutes."


	3. Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull has very sensitive ears. Dorian finds out and takes advantage.
> 
> Tags: Coming untouched, ear biting, fingering, public sex (for the record, the people present don't actually realise they were getting off)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Bull/Dorian ear biting, Coming untouched, fingering, public sex. Dorian has discovered Bull's ears are incredibly sensitive. When they're in the tavern he climbs into Bull's lap and proceeds to bite, kiss and suck on his ears until he comes from that alone. Bull pulls Dorian's pants down just enough to slip his fingers in and proceeds to finger him until he comes.

It starts out innocently enough.   
  
Well, kind of. Nothing with them is ever _that_ innocent. They fuck like they fight: messy, loud, overenthusiastic and sometimes the occasional causality happens.   
  
They are sitting in front of the crackling fire burning away in the hearth of their room (Bull's room it was, at first, but with the holes in the roof long fixed and the axe removed from the bed, the creepy painting gone and books all over the floor, it is their room now - except for the corner where Dorian keeps the weird looking crystals and the skulls and the vials with bile and scales and smelly twigs in them - that corner Dorian can have without having to share it with Bull, because _hell no_ ). Dorian is seated sideways in his lap, muttering to himself and reading sections aloud of the book he is reading. The hair on the top of Dorian's head tickles his jaw as he moves, scoffing at a quote in the book as he moves his hands to emphasize his point whilst talking. It's cute, the way Dorian can get flustered over magical theory written down by mages and non-mages alike that have long since returned to the fade.  
  
Bull has abandoned the thick quilt he was knitting a long time ago, seeing as Dorian kept jostling the needles in his hands with his wiggling. The painted wool is on the floor together with his utensils, and instead he has been reading with Dorian, pretending to be impatient as he finishes reading the page long before Dorian does, which earns him protests in the form of ' _don't rush me!_ ' every single time.  
  
Dorian is mid-fit about a particular quote in said book, when he waves his hand so gingerly it hits Bull square in the ear, and the Bull goes absolutely, completely, entirely still as he sucks in a shocked breath. He _moans_. Dorian startles, retracting his hand as if scalded, and rips his gaze away from his book, his mouth open in disbelief.  
  
They both stare at each other for awhile, before Dorian frowns. "What did I do? Did I hurt you?"  
  
"Nope," Bull says thickly, as if he has managed to swallow one of Sera's rogue bees again.   
  
Dorian's scowl deepens, and his gaze flickers all over the Bull's face in an attempt to find answers he is not getting out of the Bull's mouth. Fuck, he can feel his cheeks flushing under that intense gaze.  
  
He opens his mouth to distract Dorian with some comment, but Dorian is quick. Before he can even get the first word out, the bastard takes a finger and his thumb and _pinches_ the sensitive lobe of his ear. Bull stiffens a bit, whimpering.  
  
"Ha!" Dorian squawks, sporting a devious smile. He tuts, shaking his head while he puts his book away and turns in the Bull's lap to look at him properly. His smile is getting wider, and Bull blinks, slowly.  
  
"I'm not sure if I like the look on your face right now, kadan," he mutters.  
  
Dorian feigns offense, but can't stop himself from breaking out into chuckles, moving both his arms to the sides of the Bull's face. He is leaning in, and then he is pressing kisses to the stubble on his jaw, moving his plump lips to his ears and blowing hot air against them, then kissing, next granting him a long lick from lobe to the very tip.  
  
A violent shiver makes him grasp at Dorian's hips, grunting in answer.  
  
"You never told me these were sensitive. If I knew you would get so excited, amatus, I would have paid more attention to them," Dorian whispers, and he is laughing softly, sending pure sparks of heat right to his dick. He is not hard, but he is getting there quickly, and Dorian seems to notice, because the asshole begins to grind his shapely ass against the bulge that is his rapidly hardening cock.  
  
"Used to get me into a lot of crap," he gasps, the low growl in his chest sounding like distant thunder. "They would nag at me until they got me to keep a straight face while, ah, touching them."  
  
"Sounds like a very serious part of Ben-Hassrath training. Stop the poor boys from moving their ears. Don't let them get away with being too sensitive, the evil Tevinter Imperium will surely take advantage of that - oh, if only they knew," Dorian was teasing, the smirk no doubt on his face almost making him want to hate himself, if only it didn't feel so damn good. "How _absolutely darling_."

It becomes a game after that. Dorian, it seems, loves nothing more than to drive Bull mad by endlessly teasing the most sensitive parts of him, and on more than one occasion, it reduces the Bull to nothing but pitiful whimpers. Dorian is way too good with his hands and his tongue and those damn lips, that is for sure.  
  
It's a bit of a quiet evening in the Herald's Rest when Dorian climbs into his lap. Sera and Krem are yelling over their tankards a few tables further down the tavern, Varric is robbing some of Cullen's boys of their coin with a nasty rigged card game, and his Chargers are over at the bar, either talking amongst themselves or nodding off on their stools.   
  
"Bull," Dorian drawls, and Bull grins, because they both had a few drinks and Dorian's nose is turning a lovely shade of pink. They're nowhere near drunk, but delightfully tipsy and Dorian has that look on his face again. "Put your hands down my pants."  
  
He is whispering now, moving that mouth full of filth down to his ear as he arches his back a little, offering up his ass for the Bull to grab at. He chuckles, obliging the mage as he moves his good hand down the back of Dorian's leathers and sinks his thick fingertips in one fat cheek.   
  
Dorian moans right into his ear, loudly, and fuck, he is doing that thing again - his one hand on his right ear, the other on his left, thumbs massaging the back of them as he nips and kisses the underside of his ear with heated kisses. "Finger me," he commands. "Go on, I prepared myself," he is moaning again, and if Dorian wasn't making out with the shell of his ear at that point, Bull might have questioned him.  
  
Instead the Bull moves his fingers obediently down to his entrance, pressing one fingertip inwards to find it slick and stretched.   
Bull gasps as Dorian sinks his teeth into the tip of his ear, then sucks, his belly-deep groan sending Dorian into rocking his hips, impaling himself on two of the Bull's fingers.   
  
"Amatus," Dorian moans, rubbing his thumbs harder while he slobbers on his ear as if it was his damn cock, and fuck, he is rock hard - Dorian's ass grinding against him as he breathes and gasps in his ear.   
  
He grips the mage's ass harder with his free hand, curling the two fingers inside him to find out his prostate. It doesn't take long for him to find it, and he presses his fingers against the spot, rubbing, and that earns him a bite in his ear as Dorian closes his teeth around helix and tugs, _hard_. Bull sees stars.  
  
He comes, spending himself in his pants as he smothers his groan by biting his lip, grabbing harder at Dorian and shoving his fingers inside at a punishing pace when he can hear the bastard _laugh_ at his misery. The sound breaks off into a groan, way too loud, he knows, and there is a telltale shudder where he knows Dorian is as quick to soil himself, as well.   
  
They're both panting for air, and Dorian is still giggling, his face buried in the Bull's neck. Bull is about to say something, when he hears the people at the table behind them shuffle awkwardly.  
  
"Damn, Tiny. You feeding him at all? He almost took your ear clean off!"   
  
Varric's joke is accompanied by the soldiers behind them bursting into good-natured laughter. Dorian pulls back to look at Bull, smiling, and presses their mouths together in a sweet kiss.   
  
He tastes a bit of blood, and Bull is _so_ going to get back at him for this.


	4. Lay Hollow In The Emptiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull witnesses something in the courtyard that triggers a panic attack, for the first time in a long while. Dorian is there for him.
> 
> Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), panic/anxiety attack, crying, angst, hurt and comfort, minor background character death  
> Content warning: There is a very brief description of the dead bodies of children, which is what triggered Bull's panic/anxiety attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Dorian/Iron Bull, Bull crying.  
> Bull is very private with strong emotions. Frankly, it's easier to pretend that Everything Is Fine (TM) when no one can remind you of how upset you were. Bull generally uses a host of [unhealthy] coping mechanisms to get by, but one day shit blows up in his face. He reaches his breaking point for the first time since his reeducation. The enormity of the emotional fallout scares him. He doesn't know left from right, and he's barely holding it together.
> 
> Compartmentalizing doesn't work. Deflecting doesn't work. Drinking, fucking, and fighting wouldn't work. I want Bull making his excuses and numbly going somewhere private to cry in frustration and grief. Shoulders shaking, shuddering breaths type crying. Dorian finds him.
> 
> \+ Please avoid the traumatic event being the Chargers' sacrifice, if possible.  
> ++ Bonus: They've slept together, but haven't discussed making their relationship serious yet. Therefore, Dorian is visibly upset on Bull's behalf, but awkward at expressing it. He cares about Bull, thinks Bull is a deceptively Good Person, and makes that known. Bull is surprised and touched. (This is the sort of sweet gesture from Dorian that makes Bull tell the Inquisitor, "he's gentle, and he cares under all that bluster".)

It was bound to happen eventually. If he was being completely honest with himself, the past few months had done nothing but to lead him up until this moment - the cracks widening, his heart clenching in his chest. It became hard to breathe. Cold sweat, his hands shaking. He was sure he could hear someone calling out for him, but the voice yelled a name that did not belong to him anymore, ringing loud in his ears. Before he could even understand why and how and when, a wave of nausea hit him, and he was gone, leaving the courtyard.  
  
He surfaces at the sound of someone panting, and it startles him. Scares him even more to find out that it is his own frantic breathing, nothing in the room except for himself, tucked away behind his bed, knees pressed to his chest and hands to his face. Sounds outside of his own head are muffled, and he tries the breathing patterns he has learned, the meditation, through his nose, hold it for a handful of seconds, out of his mouth, if only he could stop fucking shaking.  
  
He can feel it, wet, sliding across his face. He cries.  
  
The tears keep coming, whether he likes it or not. He is sobbing, ugly, loud shuddering breaths while he tucks his face into the too tight skin of his own arms. His shoulders are shaking, and his chest hurts, the gaping hole left there clenching and burning, a smouldering pit with frayed edges. He is hurting, but not injured, and the fact that he can't put any physicality to his pain makes him even more upset. He wants to punch, down a potion, put a salve to it, let it scar and let it air and become a trophy, a hurt to be proud of. He can't. He can't, and fuck, it hurts, hurts to be sitting here like this and crying on his own because that is what he does - that is what he tries to avoid but fails, and this is truly what madness must be like, heaving for breath as he smells the blood, but his body is not bleeding.  
  
He hears someone coming long before the door to his room opens, but he doesn't react. He is not here to act like it's all fine, to wipe away his grief and swallow away the bile. He is under, deep, and it's hard to make out the actual sounds reaching his ears. Someone is talking. Kneeling, in front of him.  
  
He should warn them. He is not safe, not like this. He doesn't, and that is perhaps the thing that scares him most of all, that he is selfish in his hurt and that he is too far gone to reason past his own sobs. His nose stings, his eye feels swollen.  
  
"Bull, can you understand me?" Someone is saying. There is hesitation as Bull clenches his hands against where he is holding himself, sniffling. "I'm going to touch you, alright?"  
  
He does nothing, sits there as his hand is grasped and taken in between two smaller ones. Not Krem, then. They're not rough enough for it to be Krem, and he knows better than to expect any of his Chargers in here, as if Krem wouldn't have fought his way in first. The thought should warm him, but it only makes him shrink into himself even further.  
  
Thumbs rub over his knuckles, brushes over his fingers and holds, sits there as Bull tries to sort his breathing out. The ringing lessens, so much so that he can concentrate on their breathing, instead, matching his own shaking breaths to theirs. It helps, somewhat, and after a while he squeezes the hand that is holding his palm.  
  
It's Dorian, he realizes then, when he starts shuffling to fit himself to Bulls front more, tucking himself close. Tentatively, he raises an arm around Bulls neck and pulls him towards his chest, and Bull goes. He is too weak. He lets himself be held for the first time in what has to be a very, very long time.  
  
He sobs, shaking violently through the tears as Dorian does nothing more but to sit here, hold his head against his chest, and it isn't until Bull starts concentrating on the mage's heartbeat, that he realises Dorian is muttering something to him.

"I asked them to move them away," he says thickly, trying to keep his voice even. "They can't give any guarantees, but they told me they will try to find a better place to leave them, in the future. We could talk to the Inquisitor, if you wanted."  
  
The Iron Bull swallows, pretends to think on it for a moment. Thinks only about small hands, tiny feet, tiny bundles stacked next to each other.  
  
"No, that's alright."  
  
Cloth bloody, dirt covering where it touches the ground where a Chantry sister is praying.  
  
"Do you think you can look at me, Bull?"  
  
Dorian is asking with gentle hands on the sides of his face, and he slowly lifts his head up, leans back against the edge of the bed. His knees are still up against his chest, and will stay that way, for now, but Dorian seems satisfied. He gives him a sad sort of smile, brushing a thumb underneath his good eye to wipe away a tear.  
  
"Krem, ah, informed me. Of what happened to you. Before. He assured me you were better off with me helping, instead of him. He is good at fixing things, apparently, wants to run out there and get down to the root of the problem. This is not a matter of making things right, he said," Dorian says with a soft smile, and Bull nods as his gaze drops towards the ground.  
  
"He's a good guy. They don't want to see me like this. Going soft," he grumbles, and he frowns. Sniffles.  
  
Dorian lifts his hands away from his face, holds both of his hands instead. "You and me both know they would never think of you in that sort of way. That's you talking."  
  
He knows he is right, but he doesn't respond. Knows Dorian has the tendency to do the same thing, when he's feeling like crap. He wipes at his eye, frustrated. He's ready to get into bed and sleep for a week, but knows he won't get away with it. His jaw clenches and moisture gathers at the corner of his eye.  
  
"You're a good man, too, Bull."  
  
His shoulders begin shaking again, and his gaze meets Dorian's. His eyes are wet, but he is trying his damn best not to look sad. For him, probably. Bull's face breaks again, and this time it's tears without the panic clutching at him, and he drains himself of the hurt, if only temporary.  
  
"I'm sorry for what happened to you."  
  
_Me too_ , he ought to say. He doesn't, because he wouldn't mean it. Sobs wrack his frame, and he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as someone who suffers from PTSD themselves. It was a process, but I am glad that I did it. Descriptions I made in the fic itself are how I personally feel during some of my anxiety/panic attacks, so this is all taken from personal experience. Obviously, I don't speak for every sufferer of PTSD and dealing with this disorder and having panic attacks is different for everyone.


	5. What's Mine, Sweet Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let it be said The Iron Bull is a bad lay. In fact, he is an absolute beast at giving blowjobs.
> 
> Tags: Blow jobs, dirty talk, facials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Iron Bull/Other Male, Iron Bull is great at sucking dick. Has anyone else noticed how lovely Bull's lips are? He has a surprisingly pouty mouth. One that is tragically empty. I would love fic of Bull being an absolute pro at sucking dick.
> 
> Any partner would be fine. Bonus points if the recipient of Bull's amazing blow job skills is super surprised.

Dorian would never admit it. You know how things are - one gets too curious for his own good, one starts making inappropriate conversation. May say some things he doesn't mean, to get a reaction, and gets so much more in the end. He bites his lip at the memory, hissing a breath through his teeth. He is staring down his own body, and one sparkling eye full of appreciation stares up back at him. He would never admit it, but he expected a lot from the Bull. He has heard rumours, heard barmaids and soldiers alike talking. Seen too much of that skin naked for it to stay modest. He expects a lot, but he never expects the Bull to ask him, ever so nicely, to suck his cock.   
  
"Can I suck this beautiful cock of yours, Dorian? Want to taste you. Make you come all over my face."  
  
 _Ah_. Maker's breath, what has he done to deserve this?   
  
Bull is waiting, his mouth curled into an easy smile at the look on Dorian's face. He is mouthing his words, but no sound comes, and he inflates a little bit. Embarrassing, that.   
  
"By all means," he says finally, trying to sound casual about it. Nothing casual about someone, oh, doing something so utterly unselfish for the enjoyment of someone else - but, no, that is not entirely the case, he sees now, the Bull himself straining against his belly where he kneels onto the floor, a pool of precome underneath him. Oh, _yes_. "Please," he adds, a little less casual, because the moment deserves it.  
  
The absolute fool of a man grins up at him in a way that is not at all very attractive, and wets his lips. Oil is retrieved from a nearby drawer and spread all over his length messily. The Bull's large hand grips him at the base, slides his slick wrist up to the top of his cock, and down again, twisting his wrist a little as he goes. To assume the Iron Bull beds mostly women was a wrong one, it seems - this is a skilled touch, and the thought does not at all make him flush hotly in weird places.  
  
"Gonna make it good for you, big guy. You ready?" the Bull asks, and Dorian's eyes almost water from anticipation. He nods gingerly, not trusting his own voice. "Hmm. Good."  
  
Dorian watches as Bull leans forward slowly, pressing kisses to the inside of one of his thighs, lingering a little on the last kiss as he sucks a small mark that has Dorian gasping. He pressing further, slides his palm over the head, smearing precome from the slit as he nuzzles into the hair at the base of his cock. His wet lips up to the side of the shaft, sucking. He makes his way back to the head. Dorian is absolutely not staring open mouthed at the display before him - does not moan loudly as Bull finally opens his mouth and guides Dorian towards his mouth. Thick, huge, tender hands hold his hips lovingly, and Dorian shivers just because of that.  
  
The Bull keeps his mouth open, sliding the head of his cock over his wide tongue, closes his lips around his cock and suckles. Dorian groans, raises his shaking hands to the Bull's head.   
  
"Is it, ah, _fuck_ \-- is it okay if I hold your horns?"   
  
Bull moans his assent, loudly, or something like it, anyway - waiting until Dorian's fingers clench around the base of his horns before continuing, not moving, just holding him.   
  
The breath is punched out of him as Bull swallows his cock whole, his hips jerking against the hold Bull has on his hips. He throws his head backwards, nails catching the hard surface of a horn beneath his fingertips. _Fuck_ , he is being sloppy with it, as well -- no shame or pretence about sucking another man's cock, being perfectly happy on his knees, sucking and mouthing at him loudly, saliva and precome mixing as it drips down his chin. He seems to enjoy it, too, moaning as he moves his head towards Dorian's belly and back to the tip again, his thumbs digging into his pelvis.

" _Bull_ ," Dorian gasps, and the man groans in response. His tongue is tracing the vein on the underside of his cock, forming shapes with the tip of it as he hollows out his cheeks and takes him deep again, head of his cock bumping into the roof of his mouth as the man swallows and then sucks, hard. It's perfect, so fucking perfect and he can't, it's too much and not enough - and, by the fucking _Maker_.  
  
Dorian hunches forward, grappling at the horns under his hands as he holds on for dear life. Bull is humming as he pulls back, smirking as his cock slips out with a wet sound and he makes a descend for his balls, sucking one of them into his mouth.   
  
"You going to come for me, Dorian?" he mutters as he releases him again, moving a hand to stroke the base of Dorian's cock. Dorian groans - and fuck, yes, yes, he is, sooner rather than later. "Want to see you come, yeah, beautiful, Dorian -- "  
  
Dorian's voice is a breathless keen as he comes, Bull's tongue lapping at the slit of his cock, before pulling back. He gasps as he spends all over the Bull's face in thick ropes, landing over the bridge of his nose, onto his cheekbones, one spurt landing on the base of a horn. Bull is flushed an almost purple hue, and it is only then that he can see his muscled shoulder moving, slick noises accompanying the movement that are unmistakeably the Bull getting himself off -- groaning as he comes, all just because of sucking Dorian's cock.   
  
The pure debauched nature of it almost makes him pass out, but Bull is back with his hands, holding his thighs so sweetly as he moves and leans up and in for a kiss.   
  
Dorian snorts at the easy gesture of it, of kissing a face covered in his own spend. Bull grins against his mouth, and Dorian moans.


	6. Boom Boom Boom Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is very adamant about not letting anyone in his room. He has a lot to hide. A whole lot of junk, to be precise.
> 
> Tags: Use of magic, accidental injury, messy rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Dorian/Iron Bull - Dorian refuses to let Bull in his quarters because he is a secret slob. So, I headcanon that Dorian is a bit of a slob. He grew up with servants and slaves; cleaning is not a skill he ever learned. Sure, he keeps himself and his clothing clean and in meticulous order, but actual housework? Not his forte. He knows his personal quarters are a complete and total disaster and he's a bit embarrassed by it, but no one is going to go in there except for him so what does it matter?
> 
> Bull has noticed that Dorian always goes to his room when he wants to spend time together, but never offers to invite him inside his quarters. It's definitely a puzzle. Does Dorian think he's going to just charge in like a bull in a china shop (heh) and destroy whatever delicate Tevinter knick knacks he's got in there? So, he starts pushing Dorian's boundaries a little, making up things like "oh, can't go to my place, the thatcher is finally going to fix the hole in my roof, what about yours?" to try and get Dorian to let him inside. Dorian is obstinate however. He's already embarrassed by the state of his room, there is no way he's going to let Iron Bull in there. There would be no end to the teasing.

It's been a while since they started having sex. For the Iron Bull, it has become a thing where he doesn't sleep around with other people. He's not too sure about Dorian, not really the type of guy to just flat out ask him about it, but if he allows himself to think on it, he believes they have got a good thing going. He doesn't dwell too much on the feelings behind it all, knowing it makes things more difficult and the fact that he doesn't know, not yet, how it is really supposed to feel. So, for now, everything fluttering inside of him when he sees Dorian laugh or smile or sweaty, stays unnamed and easy. Except for when Dorian comes to him in the tavern that afternoon, whispers something filthy in his ear with a promise of seeing him that night -- then the feeling is pure arousal, to be honest. Excitement. Passion. Something like that.  
  
Bull is not the type of person to sit around and wait. When Dorian seems to take an awfully long time getting himself (and his arse, if he is lucky) up to his room, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He makes his way over to Dorian's room, instead. He has never been there before, he realises - never got the chance to see the place from the inside, anyway. Dorian seems adamant about keeping the space private, and the only reason he knows where he can find his room in the first place, is because of the fact that he has hauled his drunken ass back to it after a night of drinking, once. Naturally, the Bull hadn't wanted to come into the room with Dorian at that time.   
  
Even after months of fucking, Bull has no idea what his rooms look like. It seems weird, for they spend a lot (and he means _a lot_ ) of time in the little room at the top of the tavern, his room, and he has yet to see Dorian's place.   
  
It's easy to find, not too far from the library, and Bull knocks on the door.   
  
"Hey, Dorian. You done making yourself all pretty for me, yet?" he grins, tapping his fingers against the wood. He hears muffled sounds coming from inside of the room - something being dropped, loud shuffling and a cabinet being slammed shut - and then Dorian's voice, cursing, perhaps. He snorts.  
  
When he gives the door another tap of his fingers, he notices the door is slightly ajar. Taking that as an invitation, he starts to cautiously open it, announcing himself by calling out for Dorian again. The door opens, only for there to be a sudden flurry of movement, startling him.   
  
The door slams shut, hard, right in his face.  
  
It almost hits him square in the nose as the door closes – at least, that seems to be what Dorian is trying to achieve. It takes him a few seconds to realise the door isn’t closing, not at all, and it is because he is damn near losing another finger on his already scarcely fingered hand.   
  
“Koslun’s hairy – _shit_ , knuckle ass, fuck, Dorian, what the _fuck_?” he yells, pulling his hand back. He presses his hand against his chest and holds it with the other, nursing it through the pain of the blow as he hisses.  
  
Dorian is frozen in place, it seems, for it takes him a handful of seconds to realise what just happened. The door opens gingerly and he emerges, then closes again, the mage moving through the narrow opening to push his back against the door on Bull’s side. He doesn’t even seem to think about it, the fact that he has to almost crawl his way out of his room, his concerned gaze concentrated on Bull’s fingers. Not because of fun reasons, either.

“I’m so sorry -- oh, Maker, is it bad?” Dorian mutters, and he’s doing that thing where he flails his hands a bit, hovering over Bull’s nervously as he looks for permission to touch him. Bull grunts and folds away his hand, revealing two slightly swollen fingers, already looking a little purple where the door hit him. It’s going to be an ugly bruise, that’s for sure. Dorian looks guilty, a pitiful noise at the back of his throat.  
  
“Bull, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect for you to come to my rooms, I – “  
  
“Didn’t have to throw the door that hard. I need these fingers, Dorian, I’m gonna have none left at this rate."  
  
Dorian bites his lip and sighs, then nods. "I know, you startled me, is all. I don't -- I don't normally, I mean. Hmm. I, ah, don't normally want people around here."  
  
Bull frowns. If anything, the words only make him feel worse, and he tries not to let his expression drop too much. He knows what those words mean, and he's not putting up with it. If Dorian does not want him visiting, that's fine, but he can be clear about it, least of all.  
  
Well. A little less clear than putting a door to his poor fingers, he supposes.  
  
“If you don’t want me here, just say the word and I’ll go. Any time. Now, especially, seems like a very good time. I need to go and ice this and – “ He moves to turn away, but Dorian stops him with a hand on his arm.  
  
“No, no, Bull, please – shit. I meant to say -- " He doesn't finish the sentence when he sees the look in Bull's eye, and sighs instead. His face seems red all of a sudden, a dark flush spreading towards his neck. It worries Bull a little. "Come in, please. I panicked, is all, I, uh. Let me help you with that,” Dorian is stuttering slightly, nervous, gesturing to the Bull's fingers.   
  
Fuck. He knew he didn't have to be a jerk about it. The last thing he wants is making Dorian feel forced to take him into his chambers, and the thought makes him nauseous.   
  
"Dorian. I'm not going to go into your rooms if you don't want me to. It was an accident, don't feel pressured into letting me in because of that."  
  
"No, it's fine. I can help with the swelling, just, please come in," Dorian pleads, before turning around. He hesitates a little before he turns the handle, pushing the door open ever so slightly. "Just... Just don't -- ah, fuck it all."  
  
Bull would be frowning if he wasn't already, and Dorian grumbles to himself as the door is pushed open, revealing a relatively small room with a few windows at one side, moonlight drifting through the dusty glass and illuminating stacks of books, something that seems to be a bed underneath all the furs and blankets, a stone floor covered in paper, ink blotches, pots and vials, brushes, pillows, dried flowers and branches, all types of jewellery, clothes and, vashedan, it's...  
  
It's a fucking _mess_.  
  
Dorian shuffles towards the pile of blankets, shoves them to the side a bit so he can sit on the piece of furniture that indeed seems to be a bed. He is blushing a bright scarlet, and Bull just stares in something in between awe, horror and disbelief, because it sure as fuck is an achievement to make such a fucking mess of a place. He is a bit hesitant to walk inside, because the state of the room has him itching, and even though it is not necessarily filthy (nothing smells _that_ bad and the dust is kept to a minimum), it's packed with stuff, and all around just plain fucking _junk_ \- and Bull almost wants to kneel down in prayer and then get to cleaning this absolute piss poor excuse for a room that is Dorian's quarters.

"Close the door behind you, will you," Dorian says, and he doesn't dare look Bull in the face.  
  
Bull goes, shutting the door behind him, and stands there in the middle of the rubbl. As if on cue, the giant stack of books to the left of him falls over from where the Bull shutting the door has rattled it, making a racket as it all comes down, papers flying through the air, knocking over a vial that breaks on the stone floor. The liquid inside of it smells like lavender, and Bull purses his lips.   
  
He snorts.  
  
" _This_ the reason why you won't let me in your rooms?" he asks. His eye is getting wetter by the minute, and it's not because he's about to cry because of the mess. He's trying to stiffle his laughter, because this is so fucking ridiculous he wants to pick up one of the pillows by his feet and smack Dorian in the face with it. "Because you're a secret slob?"  
  
"It's the reason why I won't let _anyone_ in my rooms. Don't you mock me, Bull, I know very well what it looks like. I'm a grown man that can't keep his own place tidy -- don't you laugh, you lout, I'm going to set you on fire!" Dorian hisses, yelling, and it shouldn't be so fucking funny, but it is, and Bull is crying with laughter, wheezing as he curls in on himself.  
  
"For Andraste's sake, Bull. Stop it," he tries again, scolding him as if _he_ were the child, not Dorian, who can't even bother picking his fancy knickers off of the floor. Bull is pretty sure he has some weird trinkets hanging from his horns right now, just from walking the distance from the door to Dorian's bed. "Give me your damn hand," Dorian says as he sits down next to him, and Bull is still chuckling when he places his hand on Dorian's knee, petting it reassuringly.  
  
He quiets down as Dorian reaches into the fade and conjures some ice on the palm of his hand to press against the swollen spots on Bull's fingers, his head hanging slightly.  
  
They sit there, in silence, the occasional raven coming from the top of the library flying by. Bull chuckles, softly.  
  
"It's at least a _little_ funny," he says, and Dorian scoffs.  
  
"Funny? Weird way to explain the fact that the spoiled brat from Tevinter can't even clean his own room, because he has no slaves to do it for him -- oh, a fully grown man, that mage, but he might as well spend the night in the hay with the horses, where people can actually see where they are going. Ah, yes, _monsieur_ Pavus, saving the world and putting an end to all Blights, but his room might as well be the damn morgue, someone went in there weeks ago and we haven't heard of him since."  
  
He is using humour to hide his shame, and the Bull sighs. Dorian releases his fingers, done with icing the sore bruises. He is going to have to put a salve on it, sooner rather than later, but that can wait for a bit. Bull takes his hand back, then curls his arm around the mage's shoulder, leaning into him to press a kiss to his temple.   
  
Dorian rubs at his knees, humiliated at the thought alone of what the Bull might have to say about it.  
  
"Well," Bull starts gently. "If this is all that the evil magister Pavus has to hide from the Inquisition, I think he has to step up his game a little bit. There is an overall lack of death things, in here. Start off with, ah, a skinned raven, perhaps? A _skull_? The rotting carcass of an infant nug?"

That earns the Bull a snort, and Dorian shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Bull. I know how you are with keeping your things tidy, I didn't want to drag you in here and for you to see... The state of it. I'm ashamed enough of it as it is, I don't need anyone laughing at me for it, least of all let it worry _you_."  
  
"Aw. Concerned about my feelings, huh?"  
  
"Oh, do shut up," Dorian says, but he is smiling.   
  
"It's okay, Dorian. I probably won't like to live in here myself, but if the mess makes you comfortable, you don't need to hide a thing from me."  
  
Dorian sighs, climbs into his lap gratefully and leans into the Bull's hold. He warms, the flush on his face changing to something else entirely.  
  
"Or, you know. I could help you out cleaning up a bit. Get the boys in here with rags and a mop. Redecorate, maybe -- did I tell you about that time in Orlais I pretended to be some stuck up Vashoth interior counselor?"  
  
The mess in the room makes way to fill with their laughter, and for that, Dorian is glad.  
  
In the end, the room is made clean, but for another reason entirely. Dorian's belongings find their way into the Bull's room, neatly, and the new ink stains on the rug are taken for naught.


End file.
